


The Principles of Potency, and How to Break Them

by Frequently_Humming



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Curses, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Magical Bond, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frequently_Humming/pseuds/Frequently_Humming
Summary: "Okay, so we don't have a Breaker, but so what?  Who needs one," Finn asked, nervously fidgeting with the book in his hands."Conventional knowledge says people who want to break a curse," Poe mentioned from where he was leaning in the shadows of the kitchen."Right, okay, sure," Finn nodded, wetting his lips out of habit.  "But look at what we do have.  A fae," Finn went on, nodding at Bastian, "which, from the one book I read, seems like a useful person to have.""Hear that, Lo," Bastian needled, poking Iolo's shoulder.  "I'm useful."Iolo hummed.  "Yeah, that's why I married you.""And we have a Hunter," Finn continued, "who does not hunt Easter bunnies," he emphasized and Poe nodded his thanks.  "And we have-you, although I'm still a little foggy on what you do besides make tea."Iolo snorted, covering his eyes and shaking his head while Bastian quickly said, "Don't underestimate the importance of tea.""Right.  Well, I don't know about you, but that sounds like a pretty good team to me," Finn finished in what he hoped was a bracing tone.





	1. The Hunter's Return

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a new little story that I'm personally very excited about. There's going to be magic, road trips, squabbles, and curses, among other things. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It was nearly three in the morning when he dragged his feet up the leaf-strewn path to the dark little house, short hedges of boxwood brushing the ankles of his boots on either side.  The small light above the garage door illuminated the trimmed front lawn, yellowed from the oncoming winter, and the shadow of a bird crossed the driveway before a large raven perched and settled on the low branch of a dogwood tree beside the porch.  The man shot a smile in the glossy black bird’s direction as he clomped up the stairs and crossed to the plain, beige woven welcome mat, glancing at the two matching wicker chairs with ivory cushions before pressing his thumb against the doorbell and not removing it.

 

The raven cawed her displeasure at the faint echoing ringing from inside the house, but he didn’t relent until the light inside flicked on and the door was wrenched open by an angry, annoyed man, untied dark blue terry robe thrown over a white t-shirt and plaid sleep pants.

 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!”

 

“Morning, Lo.  How’s it hanging?”

 

Iolo looked from the frustratingly easy smile to the duffle bag thrown over the man’s left shoulder to the raven watching the pair impassively from the tree and took a step back with a glare.  “Get in here before someone sees you,” he grunted, and Poe rolled his eyes as he moseyed in.  The raven squawked softly, and Iolo rolled his eyes but jerked his head in the direction of his living room, and the bird took the invitation to swoop through the door before Iolo closed and locked it again.

 

“Very cozy,” Poe commented, dropping his bag next to the coat and hat stand and looking around.  “I like the color.  What’s it called, ‘Blissful Blue’?”

 

“I don’t know,” Iolo said through clenched teeth as the bird made herself at home on top of one of the tall bookcases that framed the TV stand.  “Bastian picked it.”

 

“And where is your blushing groom,” Poe asked cheerfully, flopping himself back onto the wide gray sectional with at least ten yellow and white accent pillows. 

 

Iolo scowled as the other man kicked his dirty boot-clad feet up on the coffee table, barely avoiding knocking over a decorative bowl of potpourri as he did so.  Poe gave a curious sniff, picking up hints of yarrow flower and lavender and making a mental note to investigate that further before Iolo said, “He’s resting, and you know it, so don’t play dumb.”

 

Poe didn’t reply, tossing his arms wide to rest across the back of the couch as he looked around a bit more, noting the few framed photographs above the small fireplace’s mantle, the fresh chamomile flowers in a narrow vase on the end table beside the corduroy armchair, and the clear crystal hanging in the window.  “Is this a home or a hospice,” he asked, tone light but his disgust was evident on his face.  Iolo didn’t appreciate it.

 

“I’m _trying_ ,” he hissed, taking two large strides to stand in front of the surprise visitor and glowered down at him, arms crossed, “which is more than can be said for _some people_ \--,”

 

“Poe?”

 

Iolo instantly straightened, expression softening so fast it looked like his face was melting and turned towards the stairs.  It didn’t even cross Poe’s mind to comment as he got to his feet and offered his own smile to the man hovering at the tops of the stairs, dressed in soft blue pajamas that hung off his frame alarmingly.

 

“There’s my favorite fae,” Poe chimed, dodging around Iolo and quickly bounding up the stairs with a burst of energy.  He scooped the slight man into his arms, heart clenching at how easy it was to pick him up.  “Devil’s breath, Bas, if you wanted to be a wraith you just had to ask.”

 

Bastian laughed brightly at that, like the ringing of a small silver bell, and wrapped his arms around Poe’s neck, as if there was any chance of the other man dropping him.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you’d be hunting until winter,” Bastian said as Poe descended the blond wood stairs at a slower pace, eyes trained on his footing in extra caution, which even Iolo had to admit was thoughtful.

 

“My last search wrapped up early and I thought Iolo might be missing me,” Poe answered once they were at the foot of the steps.  Iolo cracked a smile at that, which widened as his husband turned a joyful grin in his direction.

 

“You’ll do Lo a lot of good,” Bastian declared, unconcerned as Poe carried him over to the sectional and sat, easily arranging the smaller man in his lap.  “He’s been so stressed all the time lately.”

 

“Has he,” Poe responded, shooting a dark look Iolo’s way, who shrugged back, unrebuked.  “Well, I can’t imagine why.”

 

“Really,” Iolo asked flatly.  “Try and guess.”

 

Bastian frowned at that, looking up at his husband.  That was enough, and Iolo relented, moving to lean down and press a gentle kiss to Bastian’s brow, hovering a few moments longer to breathe in the unique scent of pine needles and frost, mingling not-unbecomingly with the burnt sugar and sea salt from Poe.  Iolo felt a calloused hand weave its way into his dusty blond curls and relaxed, remembering when it used to be this easy.

 

“We’re okay,” Poe murmured, his voice a little gruff.  He swallowed around the lump in his throat, observing the two men in his grasp, both with their eyes closed and breathing slowing sinking into unison.  “We’re going to be okay.”

 

“They’re getting worse,” Iolo choked out, and Poe’s hand tightened in his hair.

 

“Later,” Poe said firmly before releasing Iolo and jiggling Bastian’s shoulders, the man in his lap blinking his eyes open, the hue shifting from copper to deep brown as they focused on Poe’s kind face.  “You should be in bed, you know.”

 

Bastian rolled his eyes and Iolo chuckled, sitting back on the edge of the coffee table.  “He’s right,” the blond man mentioned, stroking the back on his fingers along Bastian’s cheek.  “You had a rough day.”

 

“I feel fine,” Bastian countered, catching Iolo’s hand and holding it against his face.  “I want to catch up before Poe has to leave again.”

 

“Well, I’m not vanishing when the sun rises,” Poe pointed out casually, making an effort to appear effortless as the other two men trained surprised looks on him.  “I figured I’d give it a week before Iolo kicks me out or your neighbors start getting suspicious.”

 

“We have good neighbors,” Bastian mumbled.  Poe and Iolo exchanged a quick look, Poe’s skeptical and Iolo’s pained.  Poe nodded once, understandingly, and Bastian’s body suddenly shook in a violent shiver.

 

“Alright, let’s get you upstairs,” Poe announced, shifting his grip to cradle Bastian bridal-style and getting to his feet again.  “Do you mind,” he directed to Iolo, who looked grateful for being asked.

 

“Nah, go on.  Want some tea or something?”

 

“Only if you’re having some,” Poe responded as he carefully carried the still-shaking man up the narrow staircase.  “ _Lenio_ ,” he breathed quietly, and the shivering eased but didn’t stop.  Poe grimaced as he crossed the carpeted landing towards the open door across from the stairs.  “ _Lenio max_ ,” he whispered, focus trained on Bastian as he let his feet guide him into the dark bedroom.  The trembles abruptly ceased, and Poe exhaled in relief as Bastian let out a soft laugh.

 

“Some parlor trick,” Bastian teased as he was lowered down into the soft mattress, his head dropping back into his pillow.  Poe’s answering chuckle was shaky.

 

“That’s all it is,” he admitted grudgingly, pulling up the smooth, cool sheets and thick comforter to cover the other man.  “I wish it was more.”

 

“I know,” Bastian soothed, reaching out to hold one of Poe’s wrists loosely.  “I’m really happy you’re here, _venator_.”

 

“Nowhere I’d rather be, my fae,” Poe replied with heavy honestly, turning his head away from the earnest, open expression on the thin man’s face.  Poe gulped to contain himself, letting his eyes trail over the contents of Bastian’s nightstand, the small mortar and pestle, the discarded poultice, the half-empty cup of tea.  Curious, Poe reached out and picked up the small white porcelain cup, bringing it to his nose and sniffing.  “What the _fuck_?!”

 

“He means well,” Bastian said quickly, rolling to his side and tucking one of his arms under his pillow as Poe shoved his pinky into the cold tea.  Bastian winced as Poe licked the liquid from his finger tentatively and gagged.  “Don’t be cruel, Poe.”

 

“Iolo would _never_ \--,”

 

“No, of course he wouldn’t,” Bastian agreed instantly.  “Finn prepared it, and it honestly does help after an episode--,”

 

“ _How_ , by making you vomit,” Poe snapped.  Bastian simpered apologetically, and Poe cast his eyes upwards in exasperation.  “What kind of Potent is this Finn person?”

 

“Well--,”

 

“Bas, if you tell me he’s a Drab--,”

 

“No, no, he isn’t,” Bastian defended hastily as he felt the warmth of anger radiate from the other man.  “He’s a Potent, I promise.”  Poe sucked in his lips, waiting expectantly, and Bastian sighed.  “We’re just…not sure _what_ kind of Potent.” 

 

“Did anyone ask him,” Poe suggested with the bare minimum of restraint, and Bastian could have laughed at the familiarity of it if not for the circumstances.

 

“Obviously we asked him.  The thing is…well, he doesn’t know either,” Bastian finished faintly, knowing exactly what reaction that statement would garner.  Sure enough, Poe drew himself up indignantly, and Bastian rushed on, “It’s kind of a long story but he had a strange upbringing and I guess no one ever explained Potency to him—he says he didn’t even know magic existed until he was eighteen and--,”

 

“Iolo,” Poe shouted over his shoulder.  Bastian lunged to try and grab Poe’s hand, but he was already out of reach at the door.  “Sweet dreams, Bas,” he said in a supremely kind voice and forced smile.  “You know how to call me if you need anything.”

 

“Poe--,” Bastian started, but Poe closed the door with a quiet click, turning as Iolo came racing up the stairs.

 

“What—what’s wrong, is he--?”

 

“You have an untrained Potent tending to Bastian,” Poe accused, upper lip curling scornfully.  “That’s your idea of _trying_ , huh?”

 

Iolo’s shoulders slumped as he let out a bone-deep sigh.  “Bastian’s okay?”  Poe nodded once, curtly.  Iolo nodded back.  “Okay.  We can talk downstairs.”

 

“What were you _thinking_ ,” Poe asked angrily, following on Iolo’s heels as the blond trudged back down the steps and into the kitchen where two steaming cups were waiting.  “Seriously, I wanna know—I need to know what possessed you to entrust some unknown Potent with _Bas_.”

 

“I was thinking he was our only chance,” Iolo mumbled in obvious defeat, picking up the cup on the left, with small blue-purple forget-me-nots painted along the rim.  “You know how hard it is to find a true Healer nowadays, and almost none of them will bother to treat a fae, never mind a cursed one.”

 

“There’s got to be something— _someone_ —better,” Poe pressed, and the raven, sensing the change in mood, left her perch to land on Poe’s right shoulder.  “Someone who at least knows what they’re doing!”

 

“Who?  You?”  Iolo cocked an eyebrow and took a quick sip of his peppermint and catnip tea.  “A Hunter with a few soothing spells?  Me—a Herbalist with a nose for wards?  Don’t you think I’ve been looking?  Finn was the only Potent who didn’t run out the door when I mentioned the curse.  And I can’t sit around hoping a _occillor_ is going to show up after two hundred years without so much as a rumor of a Breaker.  Bastian doesn’t have time, Poe, and--,”

 

“I know,” Poe cut in, slumping forward and resting his weight on his forearms, bracketing his own cup of fragrant tea.  The raven squawked in annoyance at the sudden movement and hopped over to sit primly on Iolo’s shoulder, who held up his cup for the bird to take a gulp.  “I could feel it.”

 

“Tonight,” Iolo asked, brows drawing together in confusion.  “You felt—the episode?”

 

“Yeah, like a phantom pain,” Poe confirmed, lifting the delicate cup that felt extremely breakable in his dirty, calloused hand to his nose.  “That’s more like it,” he mumbled, inhaling the lemon balm’s minty, citrus scent.  “This is what Bas should be drinking, not whatever the hell that concoction upstairs is.”

 

“Oh.  That,” Iolo said blandly, and Poe glanced over in time to see a slight flash of annoyance on the blonde’s face.  “Yeah, I’m not a fan of that particular idea, but Bas says it helps so…what can I do?”

 

“I’ll tell you what you can do: don’t let him drink belladonna root,” Poe stated before taking a swig of his tea.  Iolo winced but straightened, turning towards the tall, thin cupboard hidden in the back of the kitchen, tugging open the door, and snatching a small cotton bag from the middle shelf.  He tossed it underhand to Poe, who caught it and knew exactly what it was when the bitter scent hit him.  Poe smirked mischievously as he crossed over to the sink, shoving the parcel into the drain and flicking on the garbage disposer.  The two men listened in silence as the whirling and grinding slowly destroyed the herbal mixture until the disposer settled to a purr, and Poe switched it off.

 

“I’m not going to be the one who tells Finn about that,” Iolo announced, stroking his finger along the raven’s feathered crown.

 

“Leave this Finn guy to me,” Poe declared, checking the time on the digital clock on the microwave and taking a sip of his tea and missing the dubious look Iolo sent his way.

 

“Well, you’ll get your chance tomorrow—I mean, later this morning,” Iolo said, rubbing his eye against his shoulder.  “He stays with Bas when I have to work.”

 

“Nice,” Poe drawled, unimpressed.  “Leave an untrained Potent with a fae unsupervised.  I’m pretty sure that’s how the world will end.”

 

“Just—you’ll understand when you meet him,” Iolo sighed, looking down into the dredges at the bottom of his cup.  A splitting heart.  Appropriate.

 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Poe replied with heavy sarcasm, mock-saluting Iolo with his cup before downing the rest of the warm liquid.  “So, where am I sleeping?  Something tells me the marital bed is out.”

 

“You bet your life it is.”  


	2. The Untrained Potent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Poe met Finn
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

It was nearly noon when the sound of cheerful giggles and prattling drew Poe from his nest of blankets.  His hand was resting on the doorknob before he caught sight of his reflection in the polished mirror through the door to the small attached bathroom.  With a grimace at his greasy, errant curls and smudges of ash and mud on his face, he decided looking like he’d been dragged by a truck down a country road wasn’t exactly the first impression he had in mind.

 

“Hey, Bee,” Poe rasped, nudging the slumbering mass of feathers curled on the dresser with his finger.  “Wake up, I need you to keep an eye on Bas.”

 

At that the raven stirred, blinking her beady eyes up at Poe with evident displeasure.  Poe gave his most charming smile and Bee blinked, unimpressed, stretched her wings, and lazily took to the air, flapping her way out the open window and swooping down out of sight.  Poe waited until he heard Bee’s caw of greeting and Bastian’s indistinct but happy answer before heading for the shower, hoping Iolo had thought to put out some soap and shampoo since Poe never packed that stuff.

 

Iolo had thought of it, and Poe emerged smelling vaguely of warm vanilla and dressed in his cleaner jeans and one of Iolo’s cream sweaters.  He gave his damp hair a final tousle before heading down the steps, scoping out the scene as he descended. 

 

Bastian was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a large book open on the coffee table in front of him and Bee balanced on top of Bastian’s bowed head, her claws gripping the man’s long twisting curls.  Sunlight was streaming through the bay windows looking out onto the backyard, and the clear crystal in the window cast small, dancing rainbows around the room.  There was no sign or sound of anyone else, which only made Poe more suspicious as he reached to bottom of the stairs and Bastian glanced his way with a knowing smile.

 

“You can take the Hunter from the hunt,” he mentioned teasingly, and Poe smirked.

 

“But you can’t take the hunt from the Hunter,” Poe finished with an unapologetic shrug.  “I thought I heard someone else earlier.”

 

“You mean you _know_ you heard Finn, and you’re bummed your grand entrance was wasted,” Bastian shot back with his own smirk, a small rainbow covering his right cheek briefly before flitting away.

 

Poe snorted, crossing to the gray couch and taking a seat behind Bastian, his legs stretching on either side of the slight man.  “Not a chance,” he countered, shooing Bee away so he could run his fingers through Bastian’s hair, easing away a knot as Bastian leaned back into the touch with a satisfied hum.  “I’m just wondering what kind of caretaker leaves his charge alone.”

 

Bastian burst out laughing, tilting his head back to grin upside down at the Hunter.  “Oh, you’re just spoiling for a fight today, aren’t you?  What’s wrong, didn’t your last hunt go well?”

 

“I’m alive, right,” Poe asked pointedly, cocking an eyebrow as Bastian rolled his eyes.

 

“Well, not that it matters because you have your heart set on eviscerating Finn, but I told him my friend was upstairs and would help me if anything happened while he was at Panera getting me that apple salad.  You know, the one--,”

 

“—with blue cheese and walnuts,” Poe completed with a nod, knowing every single one of Bastian’s orders after all these years.  “Fine, I’ll let this one slide,” he allowed grudgingly, his fingers idly beginning a loose braid with a few of Bastian’s stiff curls.  “But you can’t stop me from laying in on him about that belladonna shit.”

 

“He noticed that it was gone this morning,” Bastian mentioned, shifting back to rest his back against the couch, drawing his legs to his chest and hugging his arms around them.  “I told him I drank it all last night.”

 

“Why the fuck would you tell him that,” Poe asked disgusted, finishing the braid and gathering another small section of hair to occupy himself.  “You’d still be hugging the toilet if you had.”

 

“Well, I had to tell him something,” Bastian pointed out, snapping his fingers, and the page of the book on the coffee table turned in response.  Poe gave a small tug on the hair in his grasp in admonishment and Bastian pinched Poe’s thigh in retaliation. 

 

“Careful,” Poe warned lowly.  Bastian let out a small sigh but nodded once acceptingly, and Poe went back to the second braid.  “You could have told him I put that damn tea right where it belonged.”

 

“No, that would’ve hurt his feeling.”

 

“He’ll have to deal with it,” Poe retorted mercilessly.

 

Bastian let out an impish cackle, and Poe leaned around to shoot the smaller man a curious look.  “You have no idea what you’re in for,” Bastian said mysteriously just as the lock in the front clicked.  Poe’s head snapped in its direction, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, left arm thrown out in preparation as the door opened.

 

“Sorry about that—the lunch rush was nuts—I forgot if you wanted bread or chips on the side so I got both and I’ll take whichever—um,” the man broke off, finally looking up and taking in the scene.  “Hi?”

 

Poe felt Bastian shaking with stifled giggles against his right leg, but he held still as he scanned the newcomer quickly and efficiently.  Open face, confused expression, broad shoulders, compact, fit body not poised to attack or defend.  Brown paper bag in his right hand, left hand open and loose.  Clearly a Potent, the air crackled around him, but no intent—like his Potency didn’t know what to do with itself.

 

“I think I’ll have the chips, thank you, Finn,” Bastian chimed, getting to his feet casually.  Finn’s eyes shifted from Poe’s defensive stance to shoot Bastian an alarmed look.  “Oh, him,” Bastian said carelessly, laying a hand on Poe’s shoulder and pressing a quick feather kiss to his cheek.  “Don’t worry about Poe.  _Venators_ are always protective around their faes.  He can’t help it.”

 

“Venator,” Finn echoed as Bastian padded over and took the carry-out bag from Finn’s limp grasp.

 

Poe straightened from his crouch, keeping his eyes trained on Finn even as he kept Bastian in his periphery as the fae went into the kitchen.  “It’s an old-fashioned title,” he said, waiting for Finn take the first step.  “It means--,”

 

“Hunter,” Finn finished, stepping into the living room and raising his chin challengingly.  Bastian smirked in the kitchen, pushing himself up onto the counter and tucking his legs under him, getting comfortable.

 

“You know your Latin,” Poe commented, still keeping his distance as Finn took another step, towards the bookcases.

 

“The—people who raised me were big on Latin,” Finn stated, another step bringing him face to face with Poe with the low coffee table between them.  “I never met a Hunter before.”

 

“Well, one of them looks like this,” Poe said with a slight edge of mocking.  Finn narrowed his eyes in response.

 

“Not that impressive,” Finn mentioned, and Poe ran another searching look over the man.  “Looking for something?”

 

“What is he, a Rogue,” Poe directed over his shoulder to Bastian, who had pulled his salad box out and had it balanced in his lap with Bee on his knee, looking expectant.

 

“Well,” Bastian began thoughtfully but Finn cleared his throat pointedly.

 

“If you think you’re intimidating me, you’re wrong,” he said flatly, and Poe smirked.

 

“Nice try, pal.  Next you’re going to ask what a Rogue is.”

 

“Nope,” Finn shrugged casually, hands in his pockets, and hating the man standing across the coffee table.

 

Poe’s smirk widened.  “You sure about that?”

 

“If you’ve got something to say, get on with it,” Finn snapped, crossing his arms.  Over Poe’s shoulder he caught sight of Bastian and the raven perched on the counter and sharing an apple slice.

 

“What’s an untrained Potent doing here,” Poe asked bluntly.

 

“Trying his best,” Finn shot back instantly.  “What’s your excuse?”

 

Poe’s lip curled into a snarl and Bastian quickly sprang to action.  “Poe’s my best friend and he--,”

 

“Belladonna root is your best, huh,” Poe drawled over Bastian’s attempt at reconciliation.  “God save us when you decide to do your worst.”

 

“The root isn’t toxic,” Finn began, but Poe cut him off with a sharp, humorless laugh.

 

“It’s not good for ingestion either,” Poe snapped.

 

“It cleanses the system,” Finn defended hastily, and Bastian scrambled to his feet in haste, Bee retreating to the relative safety of the top of the refrigerator.

 

“ _Cleanses the_ —are you out of your mind?!  It’s a curse, not a stomach bug—oh sorry, I forgot,” Poe rolled his eyes, holding up his hand in fake surrender.  “You’re still _learning_.  Nothing like learning on the job, right?  Well, let’s start with the basics.”

 

“Poe, don’t,” Bastian whispered, even as he let Poe grab his hand and pull him against his side.

 

“This is Bastian,” Poe said, carefully enunciating his words and Finn’s teeth clenched.  “He’s a fae.  Faes are not immortal but they have a longer lifespan than your average Drab or Potent.”

 

“You condescending son of a bitch,” Finn ground out.  Poe flashed him an overly charming smile before continuing blithely.

 

“Thank you, I’ll send along your compliments.  Now, as a fae, Bastian has some outstanding characteristics—you might have even noticed them if you have a smidge of observation--,”

 

“Alright, you made your point,” Bastian censored, getting a quick poke to his ribs in return.

 

“At the very least, you should have noticed his eyes--,”

 

“—glow when he’s startled or upset,” Finn finished, silently cursing himself for playing along.

 

“Lost your temper, huh,” Poe asked Bastian, tone shifting from patronizing to affectionate so fast Finn could have sworn the floor tilted under his feet.  Bastian looked up at the Hunter with a rueful smile, and Poe flashed a genuine grin back—lightening his whole face shockingly—before he turned his attention back to Finn with an abrupt scowl.  “Faes don’t have much inherent Potency but they have a talent for channeling others’ and--,”

 

“Wait, what was that,” Finn interrupted, pointing his finger at Poe.

 

“Oh, good, he’s learning something,” Poe directed to Bastian, who frowned disapprovingly up at him before tucking his face into Poe’s clavicle.  “Lesson two: Channeling Potency.  It’s one of the trickier talents, but faes are naturals.  Incantations cast through a fae will have increased force because--,”

 

“It gets stronger when it passes through a fae,” Finn mumbled to himself, focus shifting to over Poe’s left shoulder as his mind raced.  “How?”

 

“Yeah, I was getting to that,” Poe drawled, shaking his head with a huff.  “Channeling relies on compatibility and conductivity, which--,”

 

“Like a lightbulb,” Finn asked frankly, pulling a little notebook out of the back pocket of his jeans, flipping through the pages quickly with his thumb as he took a pen out of the breast pocket of his purple button-up shirt, biting it between his teeth as he used both hands to find an empty page.

 

Poe blinked in surprise as Finn grunted in success and began scribbling in his notebook.  “I—uh, I guess so?  Except, Bastian is a living, breathing, feeling person and not some twisted wires surrounded by glass.”

 

“He’s on to something,” Bastian explained as Finn’s tongue peeked out the corner of his mouth while he continued writing.

 

“I take it back; he’s not a Rogue, he’s just nuts,” Poe marveled, and Bastian laughed against the side of Poe’s neck.

 

“But how does he make it stronger,” Finn asked suddenly, his head snapping up with an intent, almost demanding expression.

 

“I—um,” Poe stammered, momentarily distracted by the look trained on him, and Bastian suppressed a pleased smile as he said,

 

“It’s kind of hard to explain, but basically the incantation has the potency from the caster, plus my potency as it channels through me so--,”

 

“So it has twice the potency, just because of you,” Finn repeated, licking his lips quickly.  “And all faes can do this?”

 

Bastian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, sinking a bit more against Poe’s side.  “Well, most of us, and not all faes really do it much since--,”        

 

“Bas, can you show me how that works?  I’ve got an idea--,”

 

“Seriously,” Poe asked, tightening his grip on Bastian’s waist as he felt the fae adjust to support himself against Poe.  “Didn’t you do any research before you took this job?  Because this is literally Fae 101 here.”

 

“We’ve got a piss poor library,” Finn admitted with a grimace.  “But I really do have an idea, so if Bas can--,”

 

“He’s not some circus performer,” Poe snapped.

 

“What he means is that he won’t let anyone channel through me but him,” Bastian explained, glancing over at Finn.

 

“Why,” Finn asked, completely lost.

 

Poe growled in the back of his throat and Bastian shrugged, saying, “I told you: Hunters are really protective of their faes.”

 

“But,” Finn blinked, eyes darting between Bastian and Poe in growing concern, pen poised.  “You don’t belong to him.  Do you?”

 

Poe drew himself up, shoulders rolling back as a guarded expression clouded his eyes as Bastian hissed through his teeth as if he’d just touched hot metal.  “I’m going to let that slide,” Poe said slowly, dangerously low, “because you’re ignorant, but accusing a Hunter of fae slavery is a quick way to get yourself maimed.”

 

“Fae slavery,” Finn repeated, distracted as he jotted another note onto the cramped page.

 

“Finn, maybe we can call it quits for the day,” Bastian suggested quietly, his slight fingers playing with the hem of Poe’s sweater.  “I—I’m feeling pretty tired so…I think I’ll just go to bed and sleep for a while.”

 

Finn’s head popped up, this time in worry.  “I—I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend anyone.  Just, the way you were talking—but I won’t mention again, okay?  You’re not mad, right,” Finn stammered, sending Bastian an utterly contrite look that Bastian smiled, drained, in response.

 

“No, don’t worry about it.  We know you didn’t mean it, right, Poe?”  Bastian nosed Poe’s shoulder and the other man nodded stiffly in response.  “There, see?  No hard feelings.  But you don’t have to waste your time here while I nap.  Poe will stand guard as you saw and—and tomorrow, if I’m feeling up to it, we can give you a little demonstration and you can tell us your idea.  I know Iolo will be interested so--,”

 

“Sounds like we’ll see you tomorrow,” Poe allowed, running his palm along Bastian’s spine.

 

“Seriously, I’m really sorry.  I don’t really know anything about— _your_ world so sometimes I put my foot in my mouth but--,”

 

“It’s fine,” Poe sighed, forcing a half-smile of reassurance since he didn’t want to make Bastian stand there all day listening to apologies.  “Stop trying to force belladonna down Bas’s throat and we’ll call it even.”

 

“Yeah, I—I can do that,” Finn nodded rapidly.  He turned towards the door before glancing back over his shoulder at the tall bookcase.  “Do—are any of these books about faes?”

 

Poe snorted.  “Dude, have you met Iolo?  All these books are about faes.”

 

Finn cracked a smile.  “Okay.  Can I borrow a few?”

 

“Take your pick,” Bastian beamed happily, bouncing out of Poe’s hold and jumping over the coffee table with an almost-convincing show of exuberance.  “There’s a couple that you’ll like—dry, boring ones, you know.  But you should also take a few folklore ones, for background reading, and…”

 

Poe let himself relax as he watched Bastian pile thick books into Finn’s waiting arms.  Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to Bee, who was bobbing her head next to the take-out bag on the counter.  Poe crossed over, noticing that a few walnuts were missing from Bastian’s salad, and glowered reprovingly at the raven.  He fished the small bag of chips out and placed it on the counter before looping the handles of the larger paper bag through his hand.

 

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Bas, but I’m just interested in getting the basics right now,” Finn mentioned around the stack of books that was now over his head.

 

“I’ll trade you,” Poe said, pressing his palm against the underside of the bottom book and carefully balancing the stack in one hand as he shoved the bag into Finn’s chest.  “Bas, he doesn’t need any of these,” Poe continued, ignoring the skeptical look sent his way from Finn.

 

“They might be useful,” Bastian began, bouncing a little on his toes as Poe began chucking the books one by one of the couch.

 

“I don’t think he’s going to be tracking you,” Poe chuckled, scanning the title of the book before discarding it with the others.  “And he definitely doesn’t need fae love stories unless there’s something going on I need to tell Lo about.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Finn retorted with clear insult, and Bastian burst out in clinging laughter.  Poe sent a slightly friendly wink in Finn’s direction that left Finn completely floored as the Hunter tossed another book to the side.

 

“No, I didn’t take you for suicidal.  Never try to pull something over on an Herbalist; they can kill you in more ways than you want to know,” Poe said before looking over the last two books.  “These will do.  Standard texts on faes.  They’ll probably put you to sleep, but they do that to pretty much everyone except Lo.”

 

“Well, Iolo has a vested interest,” Finn said with a friendly smile to Bastian, who ducked his head, pleased.  Poe looked between the two, rolled his eyes, and thrust the two tomes deemed acceptable at Finn.

 

“Good luck,” he grunted out before he dodged around Finn and clomped up the stairs and out of sight.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Bastian said as Finn watched the retreating figure with his mouth gaping.  “You know how Hunters are.”

 

“Uh, no, actually,” Finn stated, a little self-conscious.  “I don’t even know what Hunters do.”

 

“Really?  Oh wow,” Bastian blinked surprised.  “Well, most people hate Hunters.  Can’t stand them.”

 

“I wonder why,” Finn huffed, adjusting his hold to tuck the books under his arm.

 

“Hunters make people nervous.  Generally, it’s considered a success if you never meet a Hunter,” Bastian explained with a small frown.

 

“Again, I can’t imagine why,” Finn joked, but Bastian shook his head.

 

“No, see—that’s the thing.  Even other Potents don’t like Hunters, so—well, most Hunters live secluded lives.  Not much human interaction, you know,” Bastian hinted, jerking his head meaningfully towards the stairs.

 

“Ah,” Finn nodded, following Bastian’s look.  “Got it.”

 

“They’re used to being on the attack,” Bastian added, just to be clear.  “So, you might want to keep that in mind.  For the future.”

 

“I will,” Finn assured.  “You should go lie down, okay?  I’ll come by tomorrow, after Iolo gets back.”

 

“Got it,” Bastian echoed with an understanding nod.  “Enjoy your homework.”

 

Finn saluted with the hand holding the take-out bag before moving towards the door.  Bastian idly began collecting the scattered books as Finn let himself out, locking the door behind him.  Sighing, Bastian left the books piled on the table for Iolo to sort later and headed for the stairs, torn between the idea of scolding Poe and curling into Poe’s arms and sleeping until tomorrow.  His right foot hit the fifth step when the all-too familiar bone-chilling pain cracked against his ribs.

 

“No,” Bastian hissed, falling to his knees, hand tightening around the railing as the agony squeezed his lungs and shoved against his heart.  His back snapped, and his head fell back, eyes widening as a cry left his lips.

 

“—me, focus on me, Bas!”

 

Bastian felt his body crumble as the curse twisted his ribcage.  He was falling, eyes shut tight, when he was pulled against something warm and firm, different from the freezing ropes that were pulling him apart.

 

“— _max, lenio, lenio max_ —damn it!”

 

Bastian tried to reach, tried to anchor himself to the warmth, but he felt himself getting pulled away.

 

“—the hell are you doing?!  Let him go!”

 

“Get out—we don’t need you!”

 

“He’s gonna--,”

 

Suddenly, Bastian’s entire form went rigid, ice cold to the touch, and his eyes popped open long enough for Poe to see the melted copper lit irises before he felt Bastian slip away, into the nothingness he couldn’t follow him to.

 

Poe panted harshly, balancing between two steps with the unconscious fae in his arms.

 

“That’s interesting,” came a mumble and Poe slowly raised his head to glare at the other man standing at the foot of the stairs.  “He stayed conscious five seconds longer than last time,” Finn went on, mostly to himself.  “What were you shouting?”

 

“Get.  Out,” Poe bit out, but Finn just shook his head.

 

“He prefers to wake up in his bed.  You want to call Iolo or should I?”

 

Poe watched, bewildered, as Finn turned and headed towards the couch before shifting his attention to Bee, clinging to the banister with her talons.  “Why did you get him?  He’s useless.”  The raven cocked her head, giving Poe a clearly judgmental look, which Poe didn’t appreciate.  “Whatever,” he huffed, easily adjusting Bastian’s limp body against his chest and getting to his feet.  “ _He prefers to wake up in his bed_ ,” he repeated to himself mockingly.  “As if I haven’t been bonded to him for fifteen years,” Poe muttered as he carefully climbed the stairs, too focused on Bastian to notice Finn listening to his every word, notebook and pen in hand.        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I really do enjoy writing first-meets for Poe and Finn :)
> 
> Thank you thank you to everyone who left a comment or kudos on the first chapter! You are all spectacular and I hope you enjoyed the second chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are welcomed, cherished, marveled over, and silently bragged about in my head. I aim to reply to all comments (the schedule is when I post a new chapter I reply to the comments on the last one).
> 
> Updates will happen, hopefully without many alarming gaps. But if Life happens, just know that I won't leave a work unfinished.


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